Larry? Would you have sent me a mix CD with a Lojo Russo track on it?
I can't think of anyone else who would a) be sending me a mix CD of late and b) be listening to her, Kris Delmhorst and Richard Shindell.

If not, I'm thoroughly stumped.

http://igallo.blogspot.com/2008/07/hurray-for-holiday-weekends.html

I am nearing the end of a book, the deadline towers, and I meant to refrain from posting - and next week, there will be many, many art posts of work vintage and new. But I also know, by virtue of my fan mail, that many young people read this journal - and as I have said often at my school visits, there are some things in life to important not to share.

Life is Better Than We Believe.

At any given moment, Life Is Better Than We Believe.

In the last few days, I have discussed (or visited with) three men in my life who have chosen to play the cards they were dealt differently than I. And in all three instances, they, through examples good and bad, have shown me that Life Is Better Than We Believe.

The first is my childhood friend, Jeff. His mother wanted to send a copy of one of my novels to him at his current home - one of the Arizona State Prisons. We've had it sent back three times for what the prison says are administrative reasons. Basically, there is a slew of paperwork and permissions involved in sending an inmate a book. They've had too many issues with contraband. And so it's taken us six weeks to finally get the clearance to send my friend Jeff a book I can order inside of thirty seconds. He's where he is because of his own mistakes, and I hope he chooses differently when he comes home. I am still his friend. And I am glad his challenges are not mine.

The second was my friend Rick, who came to my house for an Independence Day breakfast. Rick is a decade older than I, but he grew up on the same block. He makes hand-tooled leather goods for a living - which is more impressive when you realize both hands are palsied, and at one point, did not function at all as the result of a shooting accident that happened when he was 11. He's always had to be in a motorized wheelchair, and as a result of his injuries, lost a leg years later. It took him years just to be able to nudge the control on the wheelchair, and many more to be able to make the elaborate leather gifts he does. I am honored to be his friend. And I am glad his challenges are not mine.

The last just came about today, as I got the news that the writer Thomas Disch had died. I have never read much of his work, and knew it mostly because of the influence he had on my contemporaries. I have interacted with him on occasion this last year via livejournal
tomsdisch but not to any large degree. And the reason I'm writing this now is because of the choice he made to commit suicide. I don't know enough about him to speculate on his personal circumstances. I know he was prickly but respected; and he was dealing with a lot of difficult circumstances. Those statements are also applicable to his books. I don't know that we would have ever been friends. But I am glad his challenges were not mine.

We all have our challenges. And we all have our own ways of dealing with them. How each of us chooses to do so is up to us, and us alone. We can relate, but perhaps not fully understand what challenges - or means for dealing with them - others have. So I'll just say this, one more time: if nothing else, try to remember - Life is Better Than We Believe.

I love a good typo. I was looking on Target's site to see if they had the replacement heads for a toilet bowl brush I bought there (exciting day, eh?) I found this:





You can see the whole ad here .

I'm thinking if someone doesn't look at the size, or isn't familiar with the cleaning tool known as a toilet bowl brush, they're going to be in for a big surprise when they order.

I am listening to Gogol Bordello's album "Super Taranta", and it struck me that this is *exactly* the kind of music that Da Boyz would love. Lionel Hutz's accent is exactly what i imagine the Jaeger accent to sound like... plus he wears an impressive hat ;)

I'm not sure how to embed YouTube videos in LJ posts yet, but search for Gogol Bordello on Youtube and you'll find plenty...

Any other suggestions for Jaeger music?

Article in today's San Francisco Chronicle:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/07/06/LVL211GOO2.DTL
A good, if basic, article. vonslatt,datamancer, jaborwhalky and the other usual suspects get a mention.

Spoiler warning for a Who story on Twisting the Hellmouth, based on last night's episode...

( big spoiler )

Belated thought - spare a prayer for the mods at Teaspoon today, they must be drowning in crap like this.

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

http://igallo.blogspot.com/2008/07/july-4th.html

King of Kong. Fiction or non-fiction?
Corrollary question: If you think that it's non-fiction, explain why.

It's incredibly enjoyable, but I have a hard time believing that someone in real life can be as mustache twistingly, corporate robber baron-like bad as they've portrayed Billy. And on the other side of the aisle, they completely ignore the fact that 'good guy' Steve is not only thisclose to deserving to have his kids taken away from him and/or his wife walk out due to the fact he just *ignores* the hell out of them, but he's more than a teensy bit mentally off.

Which would make sense if he was an aspy but I really can't see someone with Asperger's submitting to being filmed. Unless my knowledge of such is completely off.

I've been researching bath-y things since I'm the proud owner of a new bathtub, and in the course of looking at handmade goodies found Homestead Originals, which is all handmade stuff... and they're doing a giveaway. If you visit and sign up, you are in the drawing.

***
Win a bar of our FANTASTIC Farm Fresh Oatmeal Soap and our signature slotted hardwood soap shelf! How do you win? Leave a comment with your first name and email addy, so I can contact you–that simple. Want 2 chances to win? Post this contest on YOUR blog too….and comment with the link, your name and email addy. We’ll draw the winners name outta ye’ ol’ hat July 31st!
***

What? Didn't I use soap before when I had the awful Austin Powers Bathroom of Doom and the tilt-a-whirl shower? Well, duh, yes... but it was always shower gel kept in a bottle because with no tub there was no use for fizzies and bubblies, and no place to keep a soap bar where it wouldn't melt and ooze all over the already yucky floorpan (those stick-on non-slip things that seemed like such a fine invention, oh, 20 years ago really are horrid because they crack, crumble and leave behind a shadow that not even the strongest cleaner could vanquish).

Now I have these spiffy built-in niches to stash stuff and I'd show you a picture but having the World's Tiniest Bathroom means that I cannot back up enough to show them well. Maybe if a Canon 5D dSLR with a 28mm lens drops out of the sky I can take some photos. Wait, if a 5D dSLR *does* drop out of the sky here (and still works) I'll rush out and buy a 28mm lens for it and take photos immediately. Fair?

Fun episode, apart from a few annoying bits and a slight cop-out at the end.

Without getting all spoilery I think I need to quote The Princess Bride at the villain of the episode - I do not think that word means what you think it means.

And for reasons I will not explain my use of this icon is extra appropriate.

My pusher the imports giftshop at our favorite Japanese restaurant came through for me again: a package of what was labeled (in almost the only English on it) "dinosaur folding paper" but turned out to be orgami paper patterened for three specific models, of (transliterating the katakana, which I cannot type) a puteranodon, teiranosaurusu, and burakiosaurusu.* Each model is two pieces, and there's paper for two copies, 12 sheets total, AND the wrapper unfolds into a diorama background. The intructions are entirely in Japanese, but the diagrams are quite clear, if tiny.

In short, as these crappy pictures demonstrate, ( it's way cool. )

Of note to culture watchers: while the main blurbage has kanji (with very clear furigana), the actual folding instructions are entirely in hiragana (the first writing that children learn to read), and the only other English on the wrapper (aside from the name) is a safety warning, including beware of letting your children suffocate on the plastic baggy and don't give the paper to children under three as it's a choking hazard. In other words, children in Japan begin folding origami at a much younger age than in the west -- and these are moderately sophisticated low-intermediate designs.

* More commonly spelled in Latin alphabet pteranodon, tyrranosaurus, and brachiosaurus.

---L.

J got out of bed just to tweet. Madness. Also very funny #

http://igallo.blogspot.com/2008/07/greg-manchess-teaching-at-rockwell.html

Fully Loaded Brush: Painting with Gregory Manchess
August 4th--8th
Norman Rockwell Museum, Stockbridge, MA
10:00A.M. -- 4:00P.M.
Explore the art of realist painting with Gregory Manchess, a virtuoso with a brush whose artworks have appeared both on gallery walls and in our nation's most prominent publications. Demonstrations, direct painting from the figure in light and shadow, and an emphasis on process and technique will inspire you to hone your abilities and acquire new skills.

Most Saturday mornings, John and I have a variation on this discussion.

Me: Hey, would you like a suggestion for your Saturday Morning cartoon feature?

Him: Sure!

(this is usually followed by 20 minutes of me scouring the Web for the video in question and us watching all sorts of animated stuff and nonsense)

Him: That's great, but I already have a cartoon selected for this week.

Me: Ah well. Perhaps next week.

And often the clip does go up the next week, but as you all know, patience has never been my strong suit.

L'homme qui plantait des arbres (The Man Who Planted Trees) (1987), directed by Frédéric Back, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.

Based on a short story by Jean Giono, this film won the Academy Award for Animated Short Film in 1987. The English language narration is by Christopher Plummer.

All three of the short animated films nominated that year ("Your Face", Bill Plympton's first nominated short, and "George and Rosemary" by Alison Snowden & David Fine, the team responsible for...well, that's a whole other post) are timeless; watching them brings the same delight as they did when I first saw them twenty years ago.

That said, "The Man Who Planted Trees" also leaves me with a enormous sense of wonder. You remember it not as drawings from someone's imagination but as images that are real and living.

I have no idea how Frédéric Back created such a rich and moving world through sketching colored lines, I am just thankful that he did.

Enjoy.

In case any one was wondering- I really hate socks

while out and thinking about how to restructure the piece I suddenly realized that to do it the way I think I have to will completely change the entire piece and make it something much different then what i intended to do.
Gumblegrumblegrumblegrumble
will have to consider this.

A good clip into the writing project I've started...and I find that the way I'm writing it is almost completely wrong. It works for me but won't work for anyone else...time to start all over again

One of the primary reasons I moved back to the town I grew up in is that we do a wicked cool Independence Day Celebration - and the best part, of course, involves blowing things up.

The annual tradition (going back eight decades or so, with a hiccup in the early years, but steady since the 50's) is called the Firing of the Anvil.

Around 4 am, the town's elder statesmen get together at the old church (which is now the Coppervale Studio) and set an anvil in the middle of the crossroads. On top of that, a black powder charge. On top of that, another anvil, upside down. Then they light the powder with a flame on a ten-foot pole.

It goes off like a cannon, and throws the top anvil about five feet up. Then, the local Jennings Band (named for the old drum they still use, which Renz Jennings brought across the plains in 1878) start playing patriotic music while on a flatbed trailer. By 5, the whole town is awake and lining up behind the firetruck with the anvil and the flatbed, and we follow it around in a train (stopping three more places to light the anvil at each one ten more times per stop) until the whole town is awake and honking horns.

Then the usual stuff: rodeos, barbecues, fireworks. But the anvil is pretty much Our Thing. And lots of people come home just to get up and follow it around.

That's the other cool thing about coming from a small town: a guy can call out your name, and you know right away it's a friend you had at age six, whom you haven't seen in decades - but the shared memory is stronger than distance or time.

Boom. Happy Independence Week.